#the cabbage tree house

[anthonyspage]

🌥🏡🌲🌿🌷🎈🥥🌸🌊🥬👶🕶👧🍍🍹🐥👧🏐

[astrolovecosmos]

The Planets & Random or Obscure Associations

~Sun~

Creativity, vitality, head of state, the father, games, yellow and orange clothing, articles of value, jewelry, gold, brass, power, diamonds, citrine, topaz, jasper, amber, rhodochrosite, mistletoe, almonds, citrus, succulents, sunflowers, fevers, heart, back, spine, grapes, walnuts, rice, chamomile, frankincense, juniper, saffron, marigold, rosemary, rue, palaces, towers, luxury.

~Moon~

Eternal, cycles, silver, aluminum, pearls, moonstone, opal, selenite, chest, glands, lymphatic system, nervous system, emotions, mother, ancestors, nurture, rebirth, tides, baths, ocean, brew, boat, sap, willow trees, succulents, pale color plants, white flowers, cucumber, cabbage, lettuce, melons, shellfish, pumpkins, lakes, fountains, ports, fishponds, pools, springs, sewers, dairies, toys, reflection, blankets, objects of comfort.

~Mercury~

Communication, journal, pen/pencil, any writing tools, wings, phosphorous, mercury, agate, tiger's eye, brain, nervous system, eyes, respiration, thyroid, speech, hearing, intellect, vehicles, money, bills, paper, books, pictures, parties or social gatherings, scientific instruments, butterflies, messages, mail, hazel, mulberry, myrtle, seeds, aniseed, dill, fennel, lavender, liquorice, marjoram, parsley, valerian, hazelnuts, beans, mushrooms, pomegranates, carrots, celery, libraries, schools, markets, fairs, public spaces, tennis or badminton court, studies, banks, bowling greens, offices, blue, white, or light colored flowers.

~Venus~

Love, relating, lust, high-quality fabrics, copper, bronze, sodium, malachite, tourmaline, emerald, rose quartz, kunzite, sapphire, pastels, throat, kidneys, lumber region, art, music, aesthetics, social life, fashion, jewelry, wine, pleasure, alder tree, fruit trees, paint, ash tree, birch, pomegranates, early flowering, daisy, mint, marshmallow, meadowsweet, mugwort, plantain, tansy, roses, thyme, vervain, yarrow, potatoes, strawberries, wheat, sugar, nectarines, ballrooms, bedrooms, dining room, gardens, fountains, wardrobes, theaters, looking and feeling good.

~Mars~

Lust, conquest, desire, flaming sword, red things, fights, iron, brass, bloodstone, carnelian, cinnabar, pyrite, magnetite, ruby, garnet, hematite, muscles, reproductive organs, blood, kidneys, immunity, heat, action, arms, pepper, sharp instruments, cutlery, attacks, scissors, weapons, physical intimacy, bites, stings, scalds, burns, accidents, hawthorn, pine, thorns, cactus, aloes, anemone, arnica, belladonna, garlic, ginger, hops, mustard seed, nettles, wormwood, chives, onions, leeks, radish, rhubarb, tobacco, labs, furnaces, distilleries, bakehouses, ovens, smiths, butchers, fields, anger, passion, self-focus.

~Jupiter~

Expansion, optimism, religion, religious sites, tin, seduction, turquoise, chrysocolla, topaz, citrine, jasper, liver, pancreas, pituitary gland, sciatic nerve, excess, abundance, prophecy, philosophy, knowledge, universities, foreign travel, luggage, honey, oil, silk, fruit, distinct clothing, merchandise, horses, domestic birds, gambling, indulgence, entertainment, oak, dandelion, sage, endive, chervil, asparagus, figs, churches, temples, palaces, altars, courts, mansions, woods, orchards, winery, cornucopia, connecting with the soul.

~Saturn~

Limits, boundaries, father time, lord of death, shadows, lead, iron, steel, calcium, asbestos, sulphur, diamond, onyx, calcite, skeleton, spleen, skin, teeth, nails, joints, structure, crystallization, old age, blockage, anything dark, wool, heavy materials, agriculture, wheelbarrows, spades, farm houses and buildings, cold, laws, aspen, blackthorn, buckthorn, cypress, elm, toxic plants, hemlock, henbane, belladonna, hellebore, barley, beetroot, safflower, parsnips, spinach, deserts, woods, valleys, caves, church yards, ruins, coalpits, sinks, wells, mud, institutions.

~Uranus~

Eccentrics, mavericks, invention, genius, revolution, change, trends, disruptive science or tech, uranium, magnesium, lapis lazuli, sapphire, aquamarine, azurite, chalcedony, electricity, neon lights, plaid, nervous and circulatory system, pineal gland, chaos, violence, upheaval, astrology, steam engines, coal, machinery, coins, baths, fishponds, dangerous places, computers, magnets, quantum physics, research, welfare, humanity, hypnotherapy, railways, banks, gas, psychiatric hospitals, offices, hospitals, dispensaries, fortified places, chemicals, mingled/mingling, spirit and matter.

~Neptune~

Illusions, veils, diffuse, deception, water, oceans, mysticism, enlightenment, artistic pursuit and understanding, zinc, potassium, amethyst, fluorite, jade, sugilite, coral, aquamarine, pineal gland, lymphatic and nervous system, spine, mental processes, addiction, psychoses, disease, photography, music, substances, gas, religion, poetry, mimicry, chameleon, anesthetic, telepathy, empathy, dancing, psychic gifts, places near water, hospitals, places of healing, jeweler, painters, brewers, musicians, visionary.

~Pluto~

Power, influence, darkness, new life, what's hidden underneath, seeds, volcanoes, deep earth or ocean, bury, explosions, eruptions, abduction, plutonium, smoky quartz, obsidian, jet, pearl, deep reds, reproductive organs, the unconscious, nuclear, transformation, death, birth, rebirth, underworld, riches, earthquakes, big business, murder, detection, detective, invisibility, sneak, enforced change, hidden places, underground, drains, sewers, radioactive places, the occult, black magic, sacrifice, renew.

[nataliescatorccioapologist]

I visited the WGA library to read Yellowjackets scripts and wanted to share some of my findings! (Pt. 2)

Here are my notes for 1x03! Quotation marks indicate direct lines from the script, whereas everything else is me paraphrasing.

1x03 “The Dollhouse”

•The script starts with a scene of a panicked adult Travis bursting out of his secluded house (shack?) with a “wild glint in his eyes” “as if desperate to find the source of something and also terrfied he will find it.”

•Then it flashes back to the 1996 teen timeline and Travis hears a whisper late at night in the woods. He is “inexplicably drawn” to the plane wreckage. “The breeze rustles the tree branches, and again he hears a soft, hushed sound, as if the wilderness is calling his name.”

Travis is interrupted by Javi, who approaches him saying he had a bad dream.

As Travis is walking back to their camp with Javi, “The breeze picks back up. We hear a low and sinister exhalation, as if the woods are whispering for Travis to stay and preparing to make him stay.”

Both of these scenes were obviously cut, but I do think it’s really interesting that Travis was originally made out to be, arguably, just as connected to the Wilderness entity as Lottie is. Travis is one of the first people to be “contacted” by the Wilderness and it seems to take a particular interest in him. Also that line about making him stay is eery as hell.

•When the group is voting on whether to go to the lake or stay at the plane wreckage, the script makes sure to point out how hesitant some of the girls are to go against Jackie. Some of them even vote to stay at the wreckage just to avoid pissing her off. This shows her influence over the girls at the time, even though it eventually fades as they become more adapted to their new way of life.

•While the group is hiking to the lake, Taissa sees the man with no eyes for the first time, crouching in the bushes staring at her blankly. It understandably freaks her the fuck out and she’s shaken by it for the rest of the episode.

In the final product Tai doesn’t see the man with no eyes until later on, but this scene sounds creepy as fuck in the script.

•When Nat is looking through Travis’s house and finds the photo of the two of them together on his dresser, we get this line:

“We realize Natalie’s not only seen Travis recently, but they were close. Intimate. Natalie glances up from the photo, and suddenly sees adult Travis in the mirror. He’s standing behind Natalie, and his eyes seem to be judging her.”

Just thought it was interesting, particularly the “judging her” line. Judging her for what? Maybe judging her for looking for him? For not keeping herself safely away from all this?

•When the girls are swimming at the lake and Jackie is sitting with Mari trying to make Shauna jealous, there’s a line about Jackie being “clearly tired of Mari’s yapping” but trying to hide it, which I found funny. Mari is a canonical yapper.

•The girls also play chicken at the lake, with Nat on Van’s shoulders and Laura Lee on Shauna’s shoulders. This is so cute and I’ll take whatever scraps of VanNat friendship I can get. I wish they kept it in the episode.

•And another deleted part from the lake scene, Lottie is standing on top of a rock above the lake preparing to jump in and she does the cabbage patch dance on top of it while everyone cheers her on (if you don’t know what the cabbage patch dance is you should definitely look it up). Then she sees the cabin in the distance and stops.

But I love a little hint at silly goofy Lottie! Before all of the visions, just a silly goose.

•While Nat and Misty are in the jail cell and Nat asks Misty about her messing with her Porsche, Nat and Misty stare each other down and the script then says this:

“So much history between these two.”

A little sneak peek at a lot more happening between these two in the Wilderness that we don’t know about yet.

•While Nat is on the phone with Tai trying to get her to bail her out of jail, this line:

“We realize these two are closer than we thought.”

Tainat friendship acknowledged!����

•Also on that phone call with Tai, the script says that “Natalie is struggling to even speak his name,” referring to Travis. This again shows just how painful and complicated Nat’s feelings are towards Travis.

•When Nat and Misty are bailed out, there’s a cut scene of Misty going through a plastic bag full of all of the things that were in her purse at the time of her arrest. Here are the items in Misty’s purse: peanut butter, condoms, Travis’s notebook that she stole, and a small plastic toy cat.

God, I love that woman.

•After Jackie spills the nasty canned food all over the floor and complains that they should have stayed at the wreckage, Van snaps at her “How is this helping?”, and the rest of the girls roll their eyes at Jackie. Jackie storms outside and we get this line:

“Suddenly, she stops, overwhelmed by her emotions—how scared she is, how alone she feels, how much she hates the wilderness, and the shame she feels for showing it.”

A great look into Jackie’s mental state and very representative of Jackie’s gradual loss of influence and power in this new environment. She’s used to being sure of herself and having this magnetism that everyone naturally follows. In society, Jackie is influential and powerful. But here in the wilderness, she cannot adapt and cannot lead the group like she once did. And the other girls can see that, hence the rolling eyes and snapping at her.

•After Nat and Misty find Travis’s body and they are driving away, there is a line that was cut from the final product in which Nat admits to Misty:

“We were together, on and off. We started up again about ten years ago.”

So this would mean that Nat and Travis started up their relationship again around 2011 and have been on and off for ten years. Does this mean they were not together after they got rescued but rekindled things about 12 years later? Or did they stay together for a little while after the rescue, broke up for years, and then got back together and that’s what Nat is referring to? I don’t know, maybe this line was cut for a reason and it’s definitely not canon yet so we’ll see. But the timeline of Nat and Travis’s relationship is confusing to me and I want to know more.

My theory is that Nat and Travis have broken up after Javi’s death and don’t get back together in a romantic capacity until 2011.

[orqheuss]

How to ask for help - PART 1

(Ominis/GN!Reader FLUFF)

Part: 1 2 3 4 5 6

Summary:

The five times you helped Ominis, and the one time he helped you.

Word count: 2.9k

AN: This is so stupid, lol

Part 1: 'Water' You Doing?

September, 4th year

“Bollocks!”

You had just been leaving the main greenhouse after asking Professor Garlick a question about your chinese chomping cabbages when a curse came from your left. It was common to find you in that spot as of late, especially with the freshness of the autumn air nipping at the skin of your nose and cheeks. It was a beautiful day by all possible accounts in your book— the sun was softly burning down through the teal painted glass above your head and the leaves were just beginning to twinge the slightest shade of orange. The soft breeze that spun around the tiny outdoor space was a secret comfort to you, and you often spent time there reading under one of the many flowering trees that lined the pavement. As you strolled to your favorite spot under the giant tree at the center of the courtyard, you pondered over what the professor said about your precious foliage— deep in thought about the concerning brown spots decorating the leaves of your tiny, but ferocious, cabbage. You nearly lept out of your skin at the sound of the loud swear coming from the other side of the space, your heart picking up exponentially as you whipped your head in the direction of the voice, trying to see who the person was. By all accounts, it looked like you were alone among the plants, until the ripple of the pond just behind the buildings caught your eye. 

Creeping carefully down the stairs and around the bend of the largest green emporium, you scan your eyes around the circled fish pond under the large weeping willow. You almost didn’t see them at first with how their clothing blended in with the grass, but at the farthest corner from you was a student— a boy, you realized, not much older than you from what you could tell. The green and silver adorning his house robe glittered in the leaf shaped sunbeams, making the silken hem look like scales on a garden snake. He was carefully leaning towards the waters edge, his blond hair catching the reflection from the water below and making it look like the shifting glass of the painted murals in the Defence Against the Dark Arts hallway— your mind brought forth a particular comparison between the large sea serpent tryptic and the way the soft sage green of the water melded with his flaxen locks. You edged closer to the boy, moving around the bend as quietly as you could as to not disturb him. Seeing him more clearly now, you noticed that his fingers were gripping tightly to the edge of the pool, his knuckles turning a, somehow paler, shade of his skin tone with anxious strength— one wrong move and he would be drenched and spitting out algae. He seemed to be mumbling to himself, the hiss of curses spilling from his clenched teeth as he desperately searched for something under the surface, whipping his head to and fro like he couldn’t see through the murky depths. You decided to make yourself known, letting your last few steps ring out in the space as you cleared your throat. 

“Are you alright?” You asked the stressed stranger. “Do you need some help?”

He startled at the sound of your voice, his body jumping slightly and his head tipping precariously closer to the watery surface, before taking a deep breath through his nose and replying. 

“No, thank you. I am quite capable of handling this myself.” His voice was clipped, irritation prevalent in each word. 

You paused in your steps, confused at the hostility of the strange boy. You were just trying to help him, what was his issue? Your brows twitched in curiosity, hesitantly making your way closer again as you reached out a hand. 

“Are you sure? You’ve been out here for some time—”

His icy tone cut you off. “Thank you for the astute observation. Now if you wouldn’t mind leaving me alone, I would greatly appreciate it.” 

Your hand retreated, shoulders straightening at being chastised like a petulant child. Why was he being so rude? You were just trying to help. It wasn’t like you insulted him. 

You cleared your throat again, your words choking against the embarrassment lodged in your throat. “My apologies— I meant no offense. I’ll leave you to it.” 

Your feet swished against the ground as you turned to take your leave, proverbial tail tucked between your legs from the verbal onslaught by the blond Slytherin, when a sigh stopped you. The boy adjusted his stance, leaning up to kneel on the ground and run a hand over his face and through his hair, dislodging the swoop tucking the strands into their neat style. From him came another sigh, heavy and full of regret, before turning his cheek in your direction to speak to you more directly. 

“No, don’t go, it’s me who should apologize. I shouldn’t take my anger out on you— you’re just being nice. A trait that this school seems to be lacking sometimes.” 

His hand was outstretched towards you, like you had originally done to him, his fingers twitching and hesitant like he meant to grab onto yours before you could disappear. You moved closer again as he hung his head, his chin nearly touching his chest. The tiniest bit of color could be caught on his alabaster cheek. 

He let his hand fall again, his fingers curling into a tense fist at his side. “I’m not one to normally accept help from others, but in this instance I could use some assistance if the offer is still available.” 

You stopped next to him, keeping a respectful distance between you both. Seeing your approach, he raised to his feet, turning towards where you were. 

“What do you mean you ‘normally don’t accept help’— oh.” You raised your eyes from the ground, “meeting” his gaze for the first time. That being said, there wasn’t really any gaze to be met. He was blind. 

“Yes,” he sighed. “Oh.” 

You balked, shame pressing heavily against your shoulders. “Oh— oh my. I am so very sorry—“

“It’s fine.” He cut you off again, his sightless eyes shifting to the floor as his hand came up to rub at the back of his neck. “I appreciate your kindness nonetheless.” 

You took a shuddered breath, fighting to calm your heartbeat down to an acceptable tempo as you took in the boy once again. His eyebrows were squared across the tops of his eyelids, eyes still focused on the ground and his jaw clenched. 

He looked quite constipated, actually. 

He probably often had people asking him if he needed assistance around the castle. No wonder he was so snippy, he was embarrassed. Just from the little bit you had gathered from him, it was very apparent that he preferred to be independent. Not that you could blame him, of course. You couldn’t imagine what it would be like trying to navigate the world without your sight. If you were honest with yourself, you were quite impressed with the boy in front of you, even if you didn’t know him all that well. 

It was his turn to clear his throat, dragging you out of your thought spiral. 

You schooled your face into a gentle smile, letting your tone soften naturally. “It’s no trouble. What can I do?” 

He seemed taken aback that you still wanted to help him, his posture relaxing slightly but his shoulders stiff as boards and his face now twisted into an expression of aloofness— pleased with your response but still wary of your intentions. All it would take from you would be a little push against his back and he would be, quite literally, swimming with the fishes. Your heart ached a little thinking about the fact that he had to worry about that from your peers. 

The blond pointed towards the spot he was leaning over a moment ago, his white eyes darting around in his skull as if refusing to meet yours. His other hand fiddled with the end of his robe sleeve. 

“My wand seems to have rolled into the pond. I—” he coughed, “I can’t see without it.” 

Your response was instantaneous, your helpful nature taking over and banishing your previous trepidation. “Oh! I can help you find it, if you’d like?” 

He exhaled the breath you didn’t realize he was holding, letting his guard down a little bit more at the genuine eagerness you had to help him in his time of need. You quickly made your way to where he was pointing, edging around his body to keep a safe distance, before kneeling in a similar manner as he once was. You peered into the swampy surface, eyes scanning for anything out of the ordinary through the thick greenery and streaking colors of the koi fish swimming below. The boy sat with you, peering into the water himself as if trying to sense the location of his wand. After a moment, your shoulders slumped, unable to find his magic instrument. He noticed the change in your posture right away, forcing his own shoulders to shift towards the ground and his eyes to close, the crease in his eyebrow returning as he thought through his other options. 

“I’m sorry, but I can’t see anything—” A gasp cut off your sentence, your eyes wide and a smile stretching across your face as your eyes looked under the surface again. The boy flinched at your sound, leaning closer to you and his eyebrows shooting towards his hairline in surprise. 

“What? Do you see it?” 

“Yes!” You cheered, your toothy grin bleeding through the solitary word. 

There, just under a large patch of clover, was a softly glowing red light— a beacon calling for its lost owner. 

You quickly shucked your house robe from your shoulders, throwing it in the direction of a dittany bush before hastily rolling up your sleeves and shoving your hand into the pond, causing tiny ripples to split the top into multiple little waves. The boy jumped back to avoid being splashed, nearly losing his footing against the wet concrete. 

With a sound of triumph, you wrenched the wand free from the algae it was tangled around and back towards its anxious owner. Using the corner of your shirt, you carefully dried it off to the best of your ability before turning back towards your damsel in distress. 

At first you were shocked by how close he had gotten in the mere moments you had been on the ground, but then as your eyes tracked up his face more, your breath stilled in your chest. Your mother had told you once that it was quite rude to stare at people you didn't know, but Merlin, his eyes. You had never seen eyes like that before. Wrapped around his pupils was a deep phthalo turquoise— the color of the north sea after a terrible storm. The hue seemed to bleed into the center, skipping over where his pupil should be and instead leaving a swirling pool of a lightly toned peat-bog, much like the pond you had just been elbow deep in a mere moment ago. Cutting through the oceanic depths were little zigzags of cornflower— like streaks of lightning on a summer night. They had to be some of the most beautiful things you had ever seen. 

“—Hello? Are you alright?” 

It was only when you heard his voice that you realized just how long you had been transfixed by his opalescent eyes. Your cheeks heated to an uncomfortable degree as you hastily looked away, desperately trying to ignore the look of concern turning down the corners of his lips. 

“Yes, I’m alright.” You couldn’t seem to clear the lump that lodged itself just under your jaw. “Here’s your wand.” 

You held out your prize to him, tapping it against his knuckles so he could locate it and not letting go until it was securely in his hand. You both stood from your hunched position, dusting the grass from the knees of your trousers and gathering the things you had discarded in your rush to help. Now facing each other, the air became tense with anxious energy— neither of you knowing who should break the silence first and walk away. You fiddled with your fingers for a moment, your teeth worrying at your bottom lip as you looked around at the plants growing by the waters edge. 

The boy’s voice took on a questioning lilt when he broke through the awkward silence. “Thank you for helping me, I appreciate it immensely. But, I must ask, why didn’t you just use Accio to summon it? Do you not have your wand with you?” 

You didn’t think your cheeks could get any more pink. Shite, why didn’t you think of that? 

A nervous laugh bubbled out of your mouth. “I honestly forgot that spell existed. This is all still a little new to me.” 

The boy balked, his words leaving his mouth before he fully thought them through. “Oh! Are you a muggleborn?” He seemed to instantly regret asking, his eyes squinting shut and his face twisting into that constipated look again. You thought the rosy tint stretching across his cheeks and the tip of his nose was lovely. “My apologies, that was…insensitive of me to ask. I’ll just leave you to—” 

“Wait!” You said, suddenly very intent on keeping this not-so-prickly-anymore boy talking. “It’s alright. No offense taken, I promise.” 

He stopped mid turn, listening to what you have to say.

“I suppose you could say I’m a muggleborn, even though I never knew that was a term until I came here, of course.” You laughed lightly, hoping to clear away the stiffness that seeped into his body once again. “Been here for four years and this all still confuses me to no end.” 

He faced you again, a small smile turning the corners of his mouth. “I would imagine so. I’ve grown up around magic and a lot of it is still a mystery to me.” He rubbed at the back of his neck, a nervous tick he seemed to have. “So, you’re a fourth year as well?” 

You smiled bigger, pleased to see that he was just as awkward as you were when it came to idle chit chat with strangers. 

“Yes! I think I remember seeing you at the sorting. It’s all a bit of a blur, really.” 

A wry smirk tweaked his lips. “I think I remember you as well. You were wearing a ribbon in your hair, correct?”

Your eyebrows furrowed. “No, that must have been someone—” You watched as his smile became more wolf-ish as his words registered. You chuckled lightly, your eyes falling shut and missing how his own softened the tiniest amount at the sound of your joy. He thought your laughter was like the twinkle of wind-chimes. 

With your smile never leaving your face, you stepped closer to the friendly Slytherin, extending your hand towards him in a friendly greeting, giving him your name finally. He smiled bigger, a genuine thing that made you feel warm as he took your hand in his. 

“My name is Ominis. Ominis Gaunt. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” 

A loud voice from your right startled you both out of the happy bubble you had created. “There you are, Ominis! I’ve been looking all over for you! What are you doing— oh, who’s this?” 

The sudden volume of the stranger made you both jump, causing your feet to skid against the wet tile decorating the fish pond, knocking your balance off kilter. Ominis, to his credit, tried to keep you from tumbling into the water, his hand tightening against yours and his feet shuffling for stability. Unfortunately, his efforts were in vain. 

You vaguely registered a head of curly brown hair and freckled cheeks as your head was submerged, your clasped hands taking the blond down with you. 

You breached the surface seconds apart, your clothes now soaked and sticking uncomfortably to your body. Looking to your new friend, you couldn’t help the laugh that fell from your lips at the sight of a sizable lily-pad draped against his dripping hair. Your joy must have been infectious, because it didn’t take long for the blond to begin laughing as well. 

A hand appeared in front of you, the heavily freckled arm connected to the, now very bashful, stranger that sent you tumbling. He reached to pull you out, waiting for you to accept his help before easing you out of the pond and doing the same to his friend. He smiled sheepishly at you once you were back on dry land, grabbing your discarded robe off the ground and draping it around your shoulders. 

“Sorry about that.” He apologized, before holding out his hand to you again. “I’m Sebastian Sallow. I hope I didn’t dampen your opinion of me after startling you like that.” 

You shook your head, still smiling at the ridiculous situation you had found yourself in on what was originally a relatively normal day, and introduced yourself to the blushing brunette, watching as he took off his own robe and pulled it around the shoulders of your newest friend. 

Turning back to Ominis, chuffed that he seemed to be enjoying this as much as you were, you sighed happily. 

“Well Ominis,” you simpered. “This seems like the start to a beautiful friendship.” 

like what you read? here's more!

[aiweirdness]

Undecided on a new years resolution? Try one of these AI-generated suggestions!

Record every adjective I hear on the radio.

Act like a cabbage for a month.

At 4 o'clock every day I will climb a tree.

Speak only to apples for 24 hours.

Jump in front of a moving tree.

On the day of the first snow paint a canvas red.

Dress in a way that only a ghost could love.

Make pancakes out of grass at midnight each night.

Find old man Winter, hug him and let him know everything will be ok.

Ride out of town holding a pelican.

Under every rock I come across for a month I will write "all power to the rocks".

Every day for a year, at a random time, shout "sausage".

Make a film about the last sock in the world.

Put on a red shirt and scream 'I'M NOT WEARING PANTS!' every time I leave the house.

Throw a party for insects.

Try to convince the dog next door that he is wearing a coat of moonlight.

Every time I press a button I will say 'this is my favorite'.

Search my apartment for secret doors or hidden staircases.

Wear two superman outfits at the same time.

Every time it rains I will stir my tea anti-clockwise.

Every night for a week I will wear a hat lined with lettuce.

I will begin to believe that the trees that I see everyday are my friends.

Every time a bird flies past me I will remember to breathe.

Throw a birthday party for my favorite tree.

I will from now on tell every dog I meet that I am training to be a dragon.

Every time I see a panel van pass me I will dub it a "Slice-a-Wagon."

Crawl on the ceiling like a spider for a month.

Attempt to find peace living with an army of puppets.

Wear a dinosaur costume to every public event I attend.

Go to the beach every day for a week and shout the names of colors into the ocean.

Go on a three-day backpacking trip dressed as a turnip.

Create messages that only the wind can hear by blowing on the blades of grass.

Give a piece of cloud to a complete stranger.

Make a mask out of grass and wear it while I'm sleeping.

I will now treat every worm I see as if it is an old friend.

When I hear a strange noise in an empty room I will assume someone is saying hello to me.

How I generated these

[15-lizards]

I really like your posts about the culture of ASOIAF and I was wondering if you could go into detail about the foods the different eras in Westeros eats?? Thank you!

* Chanting* food culture food culture food culture

So obviously Im familiar with the medieval cuisine Wikipedia page like any normal person is and I agree on a lot of that for Westeros. However I do believe in small differences based on culture ofc

The crownlands, westerlands, and riverands are like prime medieval England to me, with heavy focus on cereal grains and wild game as meat. You get the gist. Classic roast pheasant or duck or whatever Tyrion describes in too much detail. Also the riverlands have a lot of root vegetables To Me.

The reach is also similar to that, but there are also way more fruits and vegetables available due to its fertility. So more deserts and wine to be made. I know their fiber intake is high and bowel movements regular.

Dorne has mostly crops and animals that can survive in dry, hot climates, like olive trees and chickpeas and goats/lambs. There is also an abundance of seafood on the costal cities, and spices both native to the deserts and from trade with essos. Very much similar to the cuisine of the Levant

The north’s food probably sucks if I’m being honest. Peak miserable medievalism. The meat is plain and gamey, but filling I guess. Lots of soups and stews and what have you. Not much variety in vegetables and essentially no fruits. Decent amount of dairy tho.

Stormlands is pretty much like the crownlands and, but probably a little bit plainer, as less trade and willingness to branch out. Meat pies, roast duck, lots of bread etc etc. Filling tho. You’ll never leave your Baratheon grandmas house hungry.

Vale has a good variety, though the soil isn’t as good in some places, so most of the focus is on meat. But they sure do try to grow things and have moderate successes. So their sheep dishes always have little sides of (kind of sad) vegetables

Iron Islands somehow worse than the north. What few livestock animals they have are malnourished from lack of grass or feed, and there’s honest to god not a single piece of fruit on those rocks, just pathetic root vegetables maybe cabbage if they’re lucky. Everyone’s sick of salty fish.

[discordiansamba]

his head feels groggy when he wakes up.

he groans, pressing his right hand to his face. he felt like he'd been hit by a cabbage cart. where...?

he cracks his left eye open and immediately panics. he can't see.

he drops his hand from his face, and the world jerks into focus. he exhales, his shoulders slumping. okay, crisis averted. stumbling to his feet, he tries to get his bearings. he's... in a forest, by a pond of some kind. staggering over towards it, he peers down into the water.

-and very abruptly, his memory comes back.

oh. right. fuck. he'd made a deal with a spirit, hadn't he?

grimacing, he pinched his cheek and hissed. okay, this was real. this wasn't another one of his nightmares. he really had prince zuko's face now. it wasn't just his face either- staring at his hands, he flexed his fingers. they were pale- not quite delicate, but less rough than his own. there wasn't a single trace of the little burn scars that peppered them.

("ordinarily, my powers only affect the face," the spirit had told him, "-for you, the results may be more... extreme.")

okay. now what?

his head snaps towards the left. someone is calling his name. they must have come looking for him. he swears underneath his breath and is up a tree before he can stop himself, out of the range of master toph's earth sense. he holds his breath and waits.

they pass by without finding him.

he exhales- and then slaps his face. what did he do that for? the whole reason he'd done this was so he could actually figure out how they felt about them. why was he running away?

(he knew why.)

he glances up at the sky. it's still dark out. he sticks to the trees, making slow but steady progress. with half of his vision suddenly gone, he has no choice- but it's not like he can just walk. master toph would sense him. he's not sure how close or far away she is.

(he should be able to, some dim part of him thinks. master toph hadn't forced him to live blindfolded for two weeks to not have mastered earth sense. he'll just... worry about that later.)

he makes it back to hira'a. noren and noriko live on the outskirts of the village. their house is dark. druk is still in their backyard. he exhales, climbing out of the tree. druk lifts his head- and quietly starts to growl.

oh. right. he wouldn't be able to recognize him like this.

"druk," he keeps his voice quiet, "-it's okay. it's me."

(his voice even sounds like zuko's.)

druk narrows his eyes, but brings his face closer. he takes a big whiff of him- and then perks right up, pressing his face up against him. shun exhales and scratches his friend where he knows he likes it- right behind the horns. he motions for him to be quiet, and then creeps inside his borrowed room.

he collects his swords, and the pouch of unspent coin- because noren insisted on paying him. he's just about to leave when the door to the room opens, and kiyi steps in.

oh. fuck.

she yells thief, and proceeds to firebend at him. he ducks out of the way, scrambling back outside. he's on druk and airborne before she can stop him. unsure of where else to go, he has druk fly him back to the western air temple and collapses.

what the fuck has he done.

[shoshiwrites]

Prompt requested by @kmk1701d, "a kiss while in close proximity." Thank you so much, Katt! A big bouquet to @junojelli for all things backyard garden, and to @basilone for talking me through at least seven different ?!?! moments ♡ Bucky Egan/War correspondent OC, also on Ao3! Warning here for emetophobia [brief, non-graphic].

september song

A package finds her in Norwich, under the September sun. It’s covered in stamps and ink, pressed haphazard over Evie’s careful hand. Jo carries it out to the back garden, a glass in one hand and the stuffed envelope in the crook of her arm, holding a notebook and novel and pencil besides. It’s optimistic, the amount of things she’s carrying, like she won’t just want to sit and laze under the trees, feel the sun on her face, sip her weak tea.

It’s become a place she goes when she needs something like rest, the oasis that’s hardly one if she thinks about it — the Anderson shelter and the squash blossoms and the cabbages. But there’s the sun on the red brick of the house, the little potting shed, the trees bearing russet apples and the ivy and the last lingering clematis, the scent of it like almonds.

In the summer, the June and July evenings, she’d sit out here with whichever correspondent was staying in the room next to hers, or play cards with the land girls down from Manchester and Hull. Kay had brought drinks out from the kitchen, little cocktails in haphazard glassware sweet-talked out of the housekeeper’s care, Kay’s spectator pumps clacking on the flagstone path.

She slides a fingernail under the lip of the envelope, wincing as the paper snags. Nothing inside seems to be damaged, though. There’s a letter, a packet of photos embossed with the name of a Philadelphia studio, a few more tied with a white ribbon. The ones Angelo took, Evie’s letter explains. Evie’s fiancé — husband, Jo mentally corrects now — is a hobbyist photographer, as much as finances and the war allow. There’s a smaller envelope too, with a few flower petals dried and pressed between. White roses, from Evie’s bouquet.

Guilt washes over her — Evie doesn’t know about William, about the whole awful mess. Nobody at home does. Kay knows, she’d had the front seat to the aftermath, the whiskey thrown up in the bathroom and the thumbnails Jo had bit down to the quick. Kay had brought her ginger ale and brushed back her hair and told her the war needed Jo Brandt, not Mrs. William Merrick. Jo had smiled and told her that was hogwash, but nice hogwash, and then promptly thrown up again.

She hadn’t been able to sour a letter home with it, what seemed like such petty personal news.

The photos, of course, are beautiful. The studio shots of Evie and Angelo, Evie in the suit Jo knows is dove-gray gabardine, light enough for summer, and Angelo with the tie pin Evie gave him the last Christmas Jo shared with them stateside. The family posed in front of the altar, and outside the church. Angelo’s shots are of the reception after, and Evie outside on the sidewalk. The sunlight catching her earrings, the beading on her Juliet cap, filtered through her birdcage veil. There are the hydrangeas in vases, and the table set with a small cake and hors d’oeuvres, the homemade wine, the cousins sat on Evie’s lap. Angela and John asked about you of course, Auntie Jo.

Evie steals the camera for a few, Angelo with his jacket off and shirtsleeves rolled up, looking every inch the man in love. Like he hasn’t always looked at her like that, every day of their lives. Jo feels still, all of the sudden, just now hearing the birdsong over the walls, too caught up in the photos and the love that pours from each word of Evie’s letter. I don’t know if it will still be in fashion, she writes, but you’re welcome to the cap and the earrings. They would look so nice with your hair, Jo. You’d be welcome to the suit too, but I know you have something white planned for the family. William’s family, she means.

She swallows.

They hadn’t gotten to the planning, actually. Nothing beyond what was expected — the church, the white dress, the flowers, the reception back at the house with a dinner. There wasn’t a dress hanging in the closet, only the ring that now lived in the back of a drawer in her desk inside the house. The only official stamp was the engagement announcement in a Philadelphia newspaper. The one that ran months ago. She wonders why no one had pressed them to marry before they had both left for England.

She gathers the photos back into the cardboard sleeve, back into the package. Lifts the envelope of rose petals to smell the faintest scent, and then replaces those too. Leans her head back, thinks of fishing her sunglasses from her trouser pocket. She’s got a haphazard outfit on, the loose trousers and sandals and a button-down with the sleeves pushed up, her watch, her hair hastily pulled back. An outfit for a rare day with no appointments, only the scurrying of a reporter trying to finish something to send off. She’d made her edits in the morning, and gone over some of Kay’s contact sheets after her second cup of coffee. Maybe she hadn’t earned the rest, but it’s too nice of a day to not at least sit out around the lunch hour. She’ll be back in London under rainclouds soon enough.

She’s too uneasy to keep her eyes closed for long, thinking of wedding gowns and absent rings, wondering how she became the type of girl who needed a diamond.

Her mother had a silver band that she wore every day that Jo had known her. Jo guesses there were some things even her father wouldn’t have pawned for drinking money.

After she’d gotten up off the bathroom floor, Kay had told her of a cousin who was married for the fourth time last spring. This time to a count, Kay had said. Something in her eyes told Jo she didn’t think it would last. A few of the correspondents they know in London are divorced, or functionally so. Several unmarried, to various degrees.

She wonders how you become the type of person who marries four times. Did it mean you’d given up on a certain kind of love? Maybe they know something we don’t, Jo thinks.

She doesn’t have too much time to ponder the question. At once she hears the noise of the door behind her, the one from the kitchen out to the garden, and footsteps, and poor Muriel the housekeeper’s voice leading someone back out to Jo in her chair.

“- should be right out here-”

“There she is.” It’s half-crowing, affectionate. “Thank you, Muriel.”

How does he even know- She turns, replaces her tea carefully on a stepping stone. “Major Egan.”

Affectionately annoyed, at the title. “How many times do I have to tell you to call me John?”

She’s not surprised he found her through the front of the house, not surprised Muriel’s smiling affectionately at his back as she closes the door, as he walks over to her.

“Force of habit,” she says. A useful one, one to ought to keep if she knows what’s good for her. For any of them. Like they’re not a hundred miles past that by now. “What brings you up here?” She scans around for another chair, wonders if he’s already refused a cup of tea.

“Oh, I need a reason?”

She stills, suddenly feels her cheeks pink with sun.

“Buck’ll let you write about him,” he says, almost like a non-sequiteur. “Finally agreed.” She’s amused, faintly, by what that agreement might have looked like. He can read it on her face, nods a little along with her. “Just tipped his chin up like this,” he says, on the verge of smiling. “You know.”

“Wonderful,” she says, and there’s not a hint of shadow in it.

He looks at her lap, and her letter, and her book, and her pencil. “I’m sorry, was I interrupting something?”

That almost makes her laugh. Like he’s ever cared about interruption.

“No, I won’t get to a proper reply sitting in this chair,” she says. “Can’t write too well on my legs.”

“Any good news?”

Oh. She can’t lie about it, can she? The photo sleeve still in her hands. “Two dear friends were just married, actually.”

“Fantastic,” he says, the shine out of his voice, but no less sincere. He sounds almost quiet.

Before she knows it, she’s profferring the photo of everyone out on the front steps of the church, Evie squinting beautifully into the sun, Angelo looking at her, his arm around her waist.

“They look happy,” he says.

“Mmm.” She could keep talking, she knows. Maybe she’s afraid of what she’ll say.

He hands the photo back to her, his thumb careful against the edge. “This is a nice place you’ve got here.”

There’s a physical relief she feels, turning to something like the vines and the trees to talk about. Other than the photos. Other than the fact that’s he’s quieter than usual, has been for weeks. When he’s sober, at least. “I just enjoy it,” she says. “Not much help in the garden besides wheeling dirt around.” She can barely keep a window box alive. Her roommates only leave her in the company of plants with their very precise instructions.

“Can the major get a tour?”

She looks up at him, quirks something of a smile, squints over his shoulder in the sun. Like she didn’t just tell him she’s useless in a garden apart from sitting in it. “If I can’t offer you a chair, I probably should.”

He holds out a hand, lets her press heavily down on it as she stands. More than she thought she’d have to. Her things go in the chair where she’s just been sitting, the curve of sun-faded, striped fabric. It’d make a nice picture, Jo thinks. Kay would move a couple of things, maybe take a stray flower and place it to the side for a shot. Her hand feels warm.

She waves a hand over the shelter in self-explanation, watches him nod in seriousness. There’s the little stone path that leads to the back wall, more ivy, the late-season potatoes and heads of cabbage. There’s a rickety little folding chair against the side of the potting shed, and she assesses that maybe she’s the one who belongs in that, and him in the other. He’d have more trouble getting off the ground than she did, though.

There’s a nice slant of shade, too, between the shed and the wall.

“Anything good in there?” He’s nodding towards the shed.

She’s trying not to narrow her eyes. Trying not to think of a hundred things. She’s only ever poked her head in.

Before she can say something — dirt, gardening tools, who the hell knows — he’s taken her hand and ducked under the doorway.

She’s careful not to trip over the step, close to him now inside the tiny shed. There’s a counter bare of seedlings, now that it’s sunny mid-September, a few implements to the side, the back shelf lined with dusty pots and some old glassware, the rich smell of soil.

“Not much to see,” she says, which is a lie too, if you know how to look.

His voice is almost imperceptibly hoarse, and serious. “‘M not really interested in the tour, Josephine. Not anymore, at least.”

Her voice is faint, as his hands find her hips. “Might’ve guessed.” She can’t think about it, the letter or the photos or his voice, the edge of despair, of anger, her own empty hands.

There’s a moment as those own hands find him, the wool of his uniform, as they look at each other in the dim, filtered light. The dirty window. The silent asking, the way she stills, and lets him press his mouth to hers.

She winds back her foot, tries to kick the door shut. The action falls short, just barely, and he huffs a soft laugh against her cheek. Kicks the door back, for real, with his boot. He’s warm, from the sun. She imagines she is, too.

“Did Major Cleven really say we could do a feature-” she starts, and the face he makes is something she’d bottle if she could.

“Start by calling it something else, Josephine,” he says. “You’ll scare him off-”

Now that’s a joke, and she’d smile if she weren’t busy kissing him again, tracing her thumb along his cheek, his jaw, his ear.

Little surface scar-dings against his neck, raised tissue tinged red, and she can’t think about what flak does, how a person can’t be so easily repaired.

He’s pulling her closer, uniform pressed against the thin rayon of her blouse, keeping, she notices belatedly, her hair from a spider’s web behind them.

She tastes the faintest hint of ale in his mouth, against his lip and his mustache, and something else — something sudden and deep and sweet. He’s smiling, and she can see a tiny dark scrap between his teeth. He looks almost sheepish, like a kid caught with chocolate on his face before dinner. “I saw some blackberries on my way over here,” he says. “By the roadside.”

“Bring me any?” She’s smiling.

“Thought you might like to go uh, gather some,” he says, like it’s something he’s trying on for size. Gather. Like this is a novel set in deep summer, and not a war. “Had to see if they were any good.”

Maybe she’s being ridiculous — it’s all for the war, anyway. The squash and the cabbages and the apples and the potting shed revived after a decade and change gathering dust in the back of an old house.

She and her roommates will help Muriel put up the apples soon. Hattie and Nancy, the land girls, had mentioned making pies. Blackberry and apple — it sounds like something her mother would have made.

“Kiss me again,” she says. His mouth is tarter now, the tip of his tongue pressed against her teeth. She half-swallows a yelp as he lifts her to the counter, lets his hands settle back on her hips, trailing his mouth across her jaw. “New calculations, Major?”

“Tactical reassessment.”

A laugh bubbles in her chest, surprisingly heavy. “What’s your objective?”

“Top secret.”

Her fingertips play at the epaulet of one shoulder. “Not too hard to guess.”

“I don’t hear you guessing.”

She pulls him, gently, back to her mouth.

“You needed this,” he says, firm and a question at once. Something in her ribcage sings. “Couldn’t risk you not getting it.”

“Getting what?”

“A good kiss.” She drags her thumbnail gently across the back of his neck, the short hairs there, watches his eyelashes flutter ever so slightly. “Someone else might have, couldn’t risk that, either.”

She leans back a little, still tight in his hold. “Wouldn’t let them,” she says. Breathes, like it’s a secret, like she didn’t just say it out into the quiet.

She wants to stain her fingers picking blackberries with him, his mouth, hers. Hear about the moments he stole as a kid. Share her own. Maybe they can have that here, on a September afternoon.

[slyscoutess]

paring: enzo vogrincic x fem!reader [ no faceclaim ] summary: your boyfriend, enzo, needs to lose a lot of weight during the filming of his new movie. You decided that you wouldn't let it be a torture for him, discovering and sharing new recipes together. writer: I always find myself thinking about Enzo talking about how it was a great time for him, the time he needed to lose weight. And I got the little idea of ​​him being quite domestic with his girlfriend, trying out those new recipes that would help with the weight loss journey.

( tradução para o português )

liked by franromerofran, vogrincicenzo, annafntoni and 123 others

yourusername It's been 84 years since this house went on a mandatory diet, mainly because I wouldn't leave Enzo completely alone in this, and now father and son are both kinda grumpy

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simonhempe pipito suffering from having to eat healthily, just like me fr

yourusername He is suffering because his father can no longer spoil him with food, gato arruinado

moratodeschini give the cat what he wants, the man I don't really care????

kuku.esteban I'm in favor of hiring pipo to act in pipe's place, almost same name

rocco.posca wtf??? Why does your breakfast seem to be tastier than it should be??

matiasrecalt My meals are so tasteless I'm thinking about throwing myself off the cabbage tree vogrincicenzo thank god is my girlfriend who cook this type of thing for me

pipegonzalezotano missing real food hour

paubaldini this seems soo good, i'm gonna ugly cry

Enzo woke up that morning with a sense of calm and determination that enveloped him like a gentle hug. The sunlight, filtered through the partly open curtains, painted the room with a golden aura, making him feel as though he were immersed in a peaceful dream. Nestled between soft sheets, he allowed his mind to adjust to waking up, absorbing the serenity that permeated the environment. The enticing aroma of coffee wafted through the air, filling him with anticipation and comfort. He knew, without needing to get up, that his girlfriend was already in the kitchen, preparing breakfast with care and love. It was a ritual of connection, a way to start the day together, sharing not only meals but also dreams and aspirations.

The weight loss journey for his role in "The Snow Society" had become more than just a professional goal. It had become a central part of their lives, a shared journey that strengthened their bond and united them in a common purpose. They had embraced this journey together, facing challenges and celebrating victories side by side. Every morning, as they smelled the fresh coffee and contemplated the soft light flooding the room, they renewed their mutual commitment to care for each other and themselves. It was more than just losing weight for a role; it was about taking care of their bodies, nurturing their minds, and strengthening their relationship through mutual support and camaraderie.

With a gentle yawn, Enzo stretched in bed, letting the last remnants of sleep escape his body. Wearing his comfortable pajama shorts, he prepared for another day filled with challenges and adventures alongside his partner. Aware of the possibilities the day held, he filled himself with determination and curiosity, readily willing to face whatever came his way. As he stepped through the partly open door of the kitchen, Enzo was greeted by the familiar and comforting sound of hot water passing through the coffee filter. The welcoming aroma filled the room, enveloping him in an aura of comfort and familiarity. His girlfriend was focused, her skilled hands carefully cutting fresh fruits, ready to compose the perfect breakfast. The morning ritual of preparing the first meal of the day together was a tangible expression of their love and mutual commitment.

As he watched his partner work with skill, Enzo couldn't help but smile at Pipo, the couple's lazy cat, elegantly stretched out on the counter, lazily watching the kitchen activity. The feline was a constant presence in their lives, bringing comfort and joy with its serene and indolent personality. Enzo approached the counter, enveloping his girlfriend in a hug from behind, planting a loving kiss on her neck. The atmosphere was imbued with a tranquil serenity, as if the very air were suffused with an aura of peace. The gentle clinking of knives cutting fresh fruit was the only sound breaking the silence, creating a delicate and comforting melody that filled the kitchen. Enzo, entering quietly, contemplated the scene with a sense of calm and admiration.

His girlfriend was immersed in her work, her graceful and precise movements revealing the dedication and care she put into each task, not only in meal preparation but also in nurturing their relationship. Every fruit cut was executed with a mastery that denoted years of practice and love for the culinary arts. Enzo watched her with a sparkle in his eyes, marveling at his partner's skill and grace. It was as if she were dancing among the ingredients, moving with a natural harmony and fluidity that captivated his heart. In her delicate gestures, he saw not only a master in the kitchen but also a committed companion intent on making every shared moment special and meaningful.

As the sunlight gently spilled through the window, illuminating the scene with golden hues, Enzo felt inundated with a sense of gratitude and tenderness. That was the essence of the life they had built together: simple moments, yet laden with love and mutual care. And in that moment, as he stood there, silently admiring her, Enzo knew there was no place he'd rather be than by her side, sharing every small moment of the journey they had chosen to walk together.

Enzo felt a comforting warmth spread through his chest as he wrapped his girlfriend in a hug from behind, his arms enveloping her with tenderness and protection. The delicate scent emanating from her enveloped him like an invisible embrace, flooding his senses with a feeling of familiarity and love. She was more than his partner; she was his anchor amidst the storms of life, his source of comfort and strength in times of adversity. Closing his eyes for a brief moment, Enzo allowed himself to sink into that moment of shared intimacy, letting himself be carried away by the comforting sensation of being with the person he loved. Each beat of his heart seemed to echo the deep bond they shared, strengthening their connection and renewing his determination to face the challenges that lay ahead.

As his arms embraced his girlfriend, Enzo felt her gently interrupt the fruit cutting, her fingers sliding down his arm with a gentle caress. It was as if she could read his thoughts, sharing not only his concerns about the necessary weight loss for the role but also his determination to make this journey as bearable and rewarding as possible for both of them. It was in moments like these, surrounded by the calm of the morning and the comforting presence of each other, that Enzo found strength and inspiration to keep moving forward. Knowing they had each other to lean on, to share the joys and burdens of life, was an invaluable gift that he would never cease to cherish.

Enzo knew well that she had delved headfirst into extensive research, consulting nutritionists and exploring various approaches to diet and weight loss. Every article read, every conversation with experts, was an incessant quest for knowledge, an attempt to find the most effective and healthy path to achieve their goals. Her determination was palpable, and Enzo deeply admired her tireless dedication. Together, they had turned all that knowledge into action, developing a carefully crafted meal plan. Every meal was meticulously planned, ensuring they received all the necessary nutrients to sustain their bodies during the intense weight loss process. However, the plan wasn't just about nutritional aspects; they also made sure that each dish was an enjoyable gastronomic experience, preserving the taste and pleasure of food.

Enzo felt a profound sense of gratitude for having such a dedicated and loving partner by his side. She not only shared their goals but also invested her time and energy to ensure they achieved success together. It was a clear demonstration of the mutual commitment they nurtured, not only regarding weight loss but also in building and strengthening their relationship. As the comforting aroma of coffee filled the kitchen, Enzo took a moment to appreciate the tranquility of the moment. There, next to his partner, he knew that no matter how challenging the road ahead might be, they would be together.

liked by pipegonzalezotano, matiasrecalt, paulabaldini and 104 others

yourusername Today's lunch featured seafood, and for dessert, Enzo stole tangerines from the neighbor and pretended it was normal (which it probably is for him, since we don't buy tangerines and he's always eating one).

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kuku.esteban Tomorrow it will be in all the newspapers in Latin America: Uruguayan actor steals mixiricas and an INCAPABLE elderly man

vongrincicenzo incapable is me, that old man is in excellent condition

franromerofran stop immediately, you are prohibited from posting delicious food

yourusername that's my boyfriend fran franromerofran STOP

pipegonzalezotano NO MORE SALAD I BEG YOU

rocco.posca Another day, another desire to live in the Vogrincic house

feliperamusiomora petition for enzo to let us sleep on his couch vogrincicenzo petition denied, and don't listen to nena, she shouldn't agree

agustinpardella I can smell the shrimp in the photo, I'm going crazy

alfosinacarrocio I'm stopping in front of your house immediately

Enzo was sitting on the balcony of the apartment, immersed in his lines as he reviewed the script for his next project. The golden afternoon sun bathed the surroundings, gently warming his face and illuminating the space around him. The warm breeze blew softly, carrying with it the fresh scent of flowers from the garden below.

However, even amidst his concentration, something caught his attention. His eyes diverted from the paper and fixed on the tangerine trees in the front house. It was a simple yet captivating sight. The branches laden with small citrus fruits swayed gently in the wind, creating a delicate and mesmerizing dance. That old house had always held a charm over Enzo since he and his girlfriend moved into the apartment. The weathered walls and windows adorned with lace curtains evoked a sense of nostalgia and romance that he simply adored. But it was the tangerine trees that truly fascinated him.

Every time he looked at those small bushes, Enzo was transported to a place of tranquility and calm. With determination, Enzo carefully placed Pipo, his sleepy cat that was on his lap, onto the balcony table. He felt the slight weight of the feline transfer to the wood as he rose, ready to venture out. The sun still gently bathed the surroundings, casting playful shadows across the furniture.

Enzo leaned, but did not close, the balcony door silently, letting the cat enjoy the fresh air as he ventured outside. Passing through the kitchen, a delicious aroma of home-cooked food enveloped him. His girlfriend, wearing one of his oversized t-shirts and denim shorts, was focused on preparing lunch. Her hair fell casually over her shoulders as she skillfully stirred a pot. A wave of desire washed over him as he saw her there, so natural and beautiful in the simplicity of that everyday moment. Enzo felt an intense urge to approach her, to envelop her in his arms and whisper words of love. But he resisted, knowing he had a mission to accomplish that day.

With a discreet smile on his lips, Enzo restrained himself, averting his gaze with determination. With careful steps, he left the house and closed the door with a gentle click, ensuring there was no noise to disturb the tranquility inside. The wood of the door fit perfectly into the frame, as if cooperating with his intention to leave without attracting attention.

As the sun began to bathe the kitchen with its golden rays, the current cook of the house began to feel the gentle touch of Pipo sliding down her leg. She was surprised by the cat's presence there, knowing that at that time, he would probably be enjoying the sun on the balcony with Enzo. With a curious smile, she bent down to pet the feline and asked in a soft voice, "What are you doing here, Pipo? Where's your dad?" Pipo looked at her with his large curious eyes but made no sound in response. His tail moved slowly from side to side, as if subtly communicating something.

Intrigued, the woman picked up the cat and decided to investigate. With light steps and the cat nestled between her arms, she headed to the balcony, where she hoped to find her boyfriend. Upon reaching the glass door that separated the kitchen from the outdoor space, a gentle breeze caressed her face, bringing with it the fresh scent of plants and flowers. Her eyes scanned the balcony, looking for Enzo, but he wasn't there. She furrowed her brow, confused by his absence, but her heart warmed at the tranquil and serene scene before her. The sun's rays painted everything with golden hues, creating an atmosphere of peace and serenity.

With a contented sigh, Enzo's girlfriend approached the table, where Pipo used to settle next to his boyfriend. She imagined Enzo there, immersed in his thoughts or perhaps reviewing the script while the cat slept peacefully by his side. Realizing that Enzo wasn't on the balcony, his girlfriend began to search for him, talking to Pipo as she looked around. "Where did your dad go?" she muttered, while the cat meowed in response, as if trying to help in the search.

Her gaze eventually found Enzo in the front house, using his t-shirt to make a basket and pick tangerines from the neighbor's tree. With a playful smile, she greeted the man who lived in the house, saying, "Good morning, Mr. Oliveira!"

Enzo, surprised by his girlfriend's sudden appearance, quickly looked up and, in doing so, lost his balance, dropping some of the fruits he had picked, feeling somewhat embarrassed as he tried to retrieve the tangerines that had rolled out of the makeshift basket. His girlfriend chuckled softly at the situation, approaching to help him gather the fallen fruits. Enzo smiled, feeling relieved that it was just another playful joke from his beloved, until the voice of the neighboring gentleman emerged not as distant as he would have liked. "Good morning, dear, how's your afternoon going?" he addressed the neighbor with a wave, working in his garden not so far from the tangerine trees. Enzo's eyes widened quickly; it was clear that she would know about it, taking time to talk to her neighbor when she wasn't working and Enzo wasn't home. Enzo and his girlfriend looked at each other, sharing a knowing smile before Enzo quickly ran back to his apartment, leaving the freshly picked tangerines on the kitchen counter. Upon arriving home, he found his girlfriend still chatting with the neighbor on the balcony. He smiled to see her so comfortable but decided to surprise her and continue playing the role of the good guy to the old man who lived in the house across the street.

With light steps, Enzo pretended to leave the house for the first time that day, yawning exaggeratedly and stretching as he approached her from behind. The gentle breeze played with his hair as he approached, his loose t-shirt adorning his body casually. One of his hands slid gently to her waist, while the other stretched in a theatrical yawn. He leaned in to gently kiss the top of her head, his lips brushing lightly against her hair as he spoke.

"Ah, good morning, babe," he murmured sleepily, trying to maintain a tone of surprise in his voice. "Good morning, Mr. Oliveira!" his voice now a bit louder, as he greeted the neighbor, waving gently to him, who waved back. His girlfriend turned with a smile on her lips as she felt Enzo's touch, her eyes sparkling with amusement as she realized what he was doing, deciding to play along. "Good morning, sleepyhead," she replied, laughing softly. "Are you aware that it's already lunchtime?"

Enzo laughed, feeling happy to be sharing that relaxed moment with her. "You know how it is, I was up late last night, it was reealy hard to sleep," he joked, gently squeezing his girlfriend's waist in a loving gesture. The neighbor, who was watching the scene with a friendly smile, once again drew the couple's attention, engaging in a new conversation with the woman, occasionally bringing up Enzo, who, in turn, smiled at the neighbor, conveying an impression of courtesy and friendliness, but his thoughts were fully focused on the woman by his side.

Unable to resist the growing desire within him, Enzo let his hands slowly descend to her hips, feeling the softness of her skin beneath his fingers, which soon wandered to one side of her ass, still pretending normalcy, as if listening to the whole conversation. He gently squeezed it, conveying a subtle signal of possessiveness and affection as the conversation continued. Time seemed to slow down as they exchanged words with the neighbor, but inside, Enzo was eager for the moment when they would be alone again. Each touch, each glance exchanged with his girlfriend only heightened his longing for her.

As Enzo enveloped his girlfriend in a passionate embrace, she gently interrupted the effusive exchange of affection to address a few words to the neighbor, who was still watching from below. "Mr. Oliveira, I think it's time for lunch. Let's resume this conversation later, okay?" she said, smiling at the man as she slowly moved away from Enzo's embrace.

The neighbor nodded understandingly. "Of course, no problem! See you later, kids," he replied with a friendly smile before heading back to his house. With the brief interaction concluded, Enzo's girlfriend turned to him, ready to resume the moment of intimacy they had interrupted. However, before she could say anything, she felt Enzo's head bury into her neck, his arms wrapping around her from behind.

She sighed softly, feeling a shiver run down her spine with the light kisses Enzo left on her neck. It was a simple gesture, but filled with affection and tenderness, which made her feel loved and desired. The kisses gradually turned into nibbles, causing the woman to lean back into her boyfriend's warm touch, who in turn pressed his hips more against hers, his lips delicately moving to her ear. "Let's go inside, babe, I need to eat something…" he whispered in her ear, his voice husky and incredibly endearing, he knew well when and how to use it. "Lunch is ready, we can serve ourselves now, my love," she commented. Enzo chuckled playfully at her response, squeezing her more in his arms with tenderness. "Always thinking about food, huh?" He said with a teasing smile, his lips gently brushing against her neck as he spoke. "But I think I can make an effort not to completely exhaust you, after all, the smell of lunch is so good that it would be a sin not to enjoy it later," he whispered, before pulling her back into the house again.

liked by agustinpardella, kuku.esteban, paulabaldini and 113 others

yourusername Time to replenish some shortages in the fridge, and Pipito decided he didn't want to leave Enzo's lap, or was it Enzo who decided not to let go of the cat?

view all 42 comments

moratodeschini Living or just waiting for the moment when I'll steal Enzo's cat and girl?

vongrincicenzo please don't feliperamusiomora I'm right here, you know?

simonhempe pipito just living the life I dream of

yourusername you dream abou my boyfriend's lap? vogrincicenzo I also dream about u

pipegonzalezotano your fridge must be very sad

rocco.posca just waiting for her to decide what they are going to eat for dinner so she can give me the drive with the recipes for my menu for tomorrow

matiasrecalt Rocco said something about uploads a recipe drive every night, nena send it to me

kuku.esteban It's good that you went out shopping and aren't stealing from other people's houses

agustinpardella Who's to say they didn't steal from the market? jeronimogiocondobosia and tomorrow in the daily newspaper . . .

As Enzo and his partner walked through the aisles filled with shelves brimming with colorful and aromatic ingredients, a package of pasta caught her attention. With a smile on her lips, she picked it up, displaying it with a curious gaze. "What kind of sauce do you prefer today, love?" Her voice carried a note of curiosity, as if she were ready to venture into creating a new dish. Enzo, staring at the package with anticipation in his eyes, considered for a moment before replying, his smile widening as he imagined the flavors blending perfectly.

"How about a well-seasoned tomato sauce?" he suggested, his mind already running through the steps to prepare the dish. He could visualize the fresh tomatoes being cut into juicy pieces, the aroma of garlic browning in the pan, and the spices dancing around, ready to transform the simple pasta into a culinary masterpiece. His partner nodded with a smile of approval and said softly, "You know, I was thinking, we could try that recipe we saw on TikTok? It looked delicious and would be a great option for breakfast."

Enzo smiled, agreeing with the idea. "We can do that tomorrow morning. I think it will be a perfect way to start the day." As they continued to wait in line at the checkout, Enzo felt a comforting warmth as he held his partner's hand. It was a simple gesture, but it filled his heart with love and gratitude. He realized how lucky he was to have someone so special by his side.

Enzo looked at his partner and said with a sincere smile, "You always have the best ideas . . ." He quickly heard his girlfriend's laughter, as she hugged onto his arm, a great deal of affection in her laughter. As they waited in the checkout line, the tranquil atmosphere of the market seemed to envelop them in a cocoon of intimacy. Enzo felt her body heat drawing closer, and before he could realize it, she gently rested her face on his shoulder, their gazes meeting in a moment of complicity. Her eyes sparkled with tenderness as they looked at him, conveying a feeling of affection and connection that filled Enzo's heart with a sweet sensation of love. He could feel the warmth of her breath, each beat of her heart seemed to echo in perfect harmony with his own. Without thinking too much, Enzo let his instincts guide his actions. With an almost instinctive gentleness, he leaned forward slightly, capturing her lips in a quick and delicate kiss. It was a simple gesture, but full of meaning, an expression of affection that spoke volumes without the need for words. Her lips responded to the touch, their hearts dancing in unison, sealing the moment with a sweet promise of mutual love and unconditional support. The world around them seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of them, lost in their own little universe of affection and love.

"I have to start changing supermarkets," Enzo and his partner were immersed in their own world, lost in the sweet moment they shared, when a familiar voice interrupted their bubble of intimacy. It was the lively voice of Matias Recalt, certainly the couple's best and closest friend, approaching with a shopping basket. "A little modesty, please," exclaimed Matias, with a playful smile on his face. Enzo and his partner quickly separated, blushing slightly at the surprise of being caught in such an intimate moment. They exchanged quick glances, sharing a shy smile before greeting Matias. "Hi, Matias!" said Enzo, trying to disguise his surprise. "How are you?" Matias laughed, noticing the slight tension in the air. "Sorry for interrupting your romantic moment. I hope I was being intrusive!" The woman laughed, shaking her head. "Don't worry, Matias, we just got a little distracted." Enzo agreed, relieved to see Matias's easygoing nature. "Oh, didn't even notice."

As they waited in the checkout line, the conversation between the three flowed naturally, as it always did when they were together. Matias shared some funny stories about his day, and Enzo couldn't help but laugh, while his partner smiled, enjoying the friends' banter.

Meanwhile, they went through their purchases, each carrying their baskets towards the checkout. The atmosphere was light and relaxed, and Enzo felt grateful for the presence of their friends. When it was finally their turn at the checkout, Matias bid them farewell with a wave, wishing them a good night. Enzo and his partner thanked him for the enjoyable encounter and exchanged more smiles before heading out of the market.

The cool night air enveloped them as they exited, and Enzo and his girlfriend walked together towards their parked bicycles. They intertwined their hands, a simple yet meaningful connection that symbolized the support and affection they shared.

"And that would be another almost end of the day," said Enzo, looking at his partner with a smile. She nodded, agreeing. "Yes, even though it was interrupted at the end."

Enzo laughed, agreeing with her. "True, I found it funny he wrote down everything you bought so he could cook tomorrow." They reached their bicycles and, together, mounted them, ready to head back home.

liked by matiasrecalt, blaspolidori, dellagustin and 109 others

yourusername Ending the day with the cast on The Sims.

view all 32 comments

blaspolidori enzo playing himself playing on the sims

yourusername he was planning our wedding vogrincicenzo and you're the flower boy, blas

simonhempe everyone of the cast?

yourusername there are some that are not filmbayona I am? yourusername yes, but you mysteriously starved

pipegonzalezotano tell me that at least then I'm watching football eating real meat

rocco.posca I hope you downloaded a mod for my hair

matiasrecalt I love this game I'm the same height as blas

moratodeschini should we tell Enzo that she has wicked whims??

alfosinacarrocio let's wait for the reaction vogrincicenzo guys . . . it was so much out of nowhere

After a peaceful and comforting night, Enzo and his girlfriend decided to spend some time together playing The Sims. Sitting comfortably on his lap, she skillfully held the mouse while he watched attentively at the computer screen, immersed in the virtual world unfolding before them. Together, they built a small fictional community with characters from the movie cast, with every detail carefully planned to reflect their tastes and personalities. Enzo was fascinated watching his girlfriend's creativity flow as she decorated the houses, chose the furniture, and planned the sims' careers. It was as if they were creating their own world, where they could escape the daily worries and get lost in imaginary adventures.

As she delved into the game, Enzo appreciated the opportunity to simply observe her, marveling at how her expression brightened with every achievement and challenge overcome. Feeling the warmth of her presence on his lap was comforting, a constant reminder of the love and companionship they shared. Enzo watched closely at the computer screen as his girlfriend manipulated the game controls. Suddenly, an interaction between the sim representing him and the one representing his girlfriend caught his attention. He watched with fascination as the sims exchanged gestures of affection, somehow reflecting the dynamics of their own relationship.

However, his surprise soon turned to shock when suddenly the game activated a mod known as Wicked Whims. His face twisted in a expression of surprise and confusion as he witnessed the explicitly romantic interactions between the sims, far beyond what he was used to seeing in the game. Turning to his girlfriend, who was still comfortably seated on his lap, Enzo asked incredulously, "What's going on? Is this how the game is now?" His voice carried a mixture of curiosity and uncertainty as he tried to process what he had just witnessed. She simply smiled gently, noticing his confusion. With a reassuring touch on his shoulder, she explained that this was not the game in its original form, but rather a fan-made modification to add a new layer of realism and complexity to the sims' interactions."Oh, so our reality is to just start hooking up out of nowhere?"

"It's not like you can keep those hands off me…" Enzo chuckled at his girlfriend's response. His laughter was a mix of relief and amusement as he settled comfortably in the chair, his hands automatically gently squeezing her waist, as if seeking closer contact to dispel the surprise. As his fingers lightly caressed her waist, Enzo felt comforted by her presence on his lap. "Apparently she's eating for two now… maybe we could try that out here too, right nena?"

[allthebrazilianpolitics]

Submerged by flooding, Porto Alegre realizes it was unprepared: 'Everything has to be rebuilt'

Three weeks after being hit by one of the worst climate disasters in its history, which left at least 157 people dead, 88 missing and forced the evacuation of 540,000, the Brazilian state of Rio Grande do Sul is still partly submerged.

After slipping on her rubber boots, Darcilla Melo Da Silva, 58, took a deep breath before she stepped through the metal gates of her house, guided by her husband, Admar, 68. The scene she had so feared to see for the past 12 days appeared before her eyes. The vegetable garden where she had planted cabbage and herbs to alleviate her severe health problems was buried under a layer of mud. The remains of a white hen lay among the tangled planks, next to her new washing machine, which had been swept into the garden by the current and had ended up crushed under a tree trunk.

The interior of her house, which took her 40 years to furnish, was even more desolate. A smell of rot was pervasive. Without any electricity, Da Silva had to discover the extent of the damage by the light from her husband's smartphone: holes in the roof, raised floor, overturned armchairs... "Everything has to be rebuilt," said the grandmother barely able to breathe.

The retired couple, who lived in the Cidade Baixa district in the west of Porto Alegre, were among the 540,188 people who were forced to evacuate their homes in early May when floodwaters engulfed two-thirds of the towns in the state of Rio Grande do Sul, a hilly area on the border with Argentina and Uruguay with a population of some 11 million.

Since April 27, torrential rains have battered the region, raising the level of the Guaiba, a body of water – considered as much a river, lake or estuary – that borders the Porto Alegre metropolitan area, by several meters. On May 6, the day Darcilla Melo Da Silva and Admar evacuated their home, the water level reached 5.3 meters: the most severe flooding since 1941, when the Guaiba had risen to a height of 4.76 meters.

"This extreme event is the result of global warming" aggravated by the El Niño phenomenon, said Francisco Aquino, climatologist and head of the geography department at the Federal University of Rio Grande do Sul. As temperatures rise, "we expect them to become more frequent and intense."

Continue reading.

[babylon-crashing]

the psycho'vac

I.        In a glass case                in the dark                         in an alcove                                in the dark                in a church in Rome,        in Sienna, in Florence,                                bits of saints mummified like the monkey's paw or                        Daniel Dravot's withered head                                                sat in the dark                        waiting for the faithful                                                to pass by, tourists to gawk at, for children of archeologists                to be terrified by.        Outside the Uffitzi                        one could buy postcards                                        fragments of Bosch's                                                        Last Judgement (1504)                                        reaction against sexuality                        that was creeping        back into the faith – every where lusty, fleshy figures                        were being torn apart, swallowed whole by frog-eggs,        tossed into pits of fire and snakes,                                        onto pitchforks and trees of thorn                while the saved, the fleshless,                                desiccated, loosely built creatures                        closed their eyes and lay upon the ground to pray.

II.

It starts while you sit in an outdoor cafe near the great clock in the ex-Lenin Square, forever at 11:45, while swallows who nest in the ruined eaves dart low, dark sickle-flashes, sweeping, skimming. Your notebook is open, pen cast down. You sip at the tiny cup of bitter coffee-sludge (when you are at a friend's house the old tatik takes the finished cup from your hands and reads the ground-stains, having you press your thumb into the hot residue, always with the curious shapes rimming the inside lip.) There is a smell thunder in the air. It starts when you walk down one of the city's mud streets, the rain coming down for four days nonstop. You stand in a crumbled doorway, a truck rumbles past full of cabbage heading for the market, spraying mud and gravel into the air. The wave-like clouds come down off the nearby mountains, things urgent and low to the ground, overwhelming the ruined factories and caved-in apartments, the one-room emergency boxes families of eight or twelve had been living in for the last seven years. It starts as you walk down the street. Under your boots, laying in unmarked graves, thousands of bodies, crushed and buried, their calls bubbling to the surface. Waiting for someone to hear.

III.

After the first baby in the orphanage you work at dies, then the second and finally a third, you go on a walk. It has been lightly snowing. Behind the city lays the broken rail yard. Even though there is no penicillin at the rail yard and none of the doctors who refuse to come to the orphanage to heal "things" as they call your babies will be there, you walk without a hat in the late afternoon gusts. You climb up through an abandoned cab engine, the iron sticking slightly to your gloves, its wooden passenger carriages trapped under a fallen wall. The train - its olive green and chrome and red 1940s Soviet art deco - slightly covered in wet-powder. At your feet, in the lee of the cab engine, dozens of empty hypodermic needles. Beyond the cab, the twisted rail lines; toppled buildings and other ruins; open pits of crude oil sunk in the ground; a whole roundhouse with the roof caved-in. It looks like a temple. Something holy, but you who never believed in the sacred or the holy, who saw ghosts as simply cultural abstractions. When you reach the roundhouse you find nothing inside but rubble and years and years of snow.

IV.

Humor. An US Embassy worker, an American working for a Foreign Aide organization and a Peace Corps Volunteer run into each on the street. Soon an Armenian friend walks by.

"This morning for breakfast," the Armenian said, "I had Frosted Flakes with milk."

"You had Frosted Flakes?" cried the Embassy worker, "How did you get Frosted Flakes in Armenia?"

"Oh, I bought them at the black market store near my house."

"You had milk?" cried the Foreign Aide worker, "How did you get milk?"

"Oh, I mixed the powdered milk with water."

"You had water?" cried the Peace Corps Volunteer, "How did you get water?"

V.

All winter long you were in isolation

watching it grow. You had given up

on the poetry brought in the 40-pound

box from home. You had not spoken

English in over three months, ever since the first

frost coated your pillow – there was no heat

in your hut, the rains turned to ice.

You wore your jacket and thermals and gloves

to bed and gave up on poetry. Reading

a poet writing about wasted sex no less

in San Francisco was a hateful thing.

Reading a poet, in Berkeley, where they

have everything, speculate on her fat

soul was a hateful, too. Under your floor

boards the dead called out your name, until

vodka, Russian water, kept the their

voices at bay. Intolerable, how clear they

came in. All of them complained,

griped, belly-ached in a language

untranslatable until your perception:

It was a cross between Armenian

and Russian that the old women spoke

down in the market.

VI.

It is sad to see these old people one, two, three generations apart from their children. These haughty, thin old people unable to speak of these things anymore, needing always to speak around them, as if at the dinner table to speak with clarity would make the magic happen all over again. To listen to them submerge their magic, to protect their children. There was a woman, nearly a hundred, who lived in a nearby village. As a baby she had escaped the Young Turks' Genocide in 1915, had witnessed the USSR rise and fall and had lost eighteen children and grandchildren in the earthquake. You visit her, she speaks in the ancient language, the old Armenian words, "God has forsaken the Armenians" – and spends her time looking for her god among the graveyards where 50,000 of her people died in 4 minutes in 1988. You will be leaving soon, returning on a 32-hour flight. Numbers. Something is inside you. Parasite. You will be leaving soon, and she has no more use for the living. Her words drop away, become muddled, confused, a lexicon of secrets, you pass by gravestone after gravestone on the way to the surface, thousands of them, until there is no more room for air.

VII.

Of course, you

take it with you.

It grows hideous

inside you, even

after the Peace Corps'

doctors arrived and demanded

that you are Medically

Evacuated -- the ol' Psycho

Vac -- three days before your

twenty seventh birthday, you

take it with you. You have

grown thin now, fleshless,

desiccated. They do not

even let you say good-bye

to your babies, such is the state

they find you in. On the flight

back to DC you sit next to

a woman, Dutch ex-missionary,

who explains that sometimes,

the young men God has sent

to do his bidding go crazy.

They, who fear for the safety

of their souls above all else,

do not know how to take

care of themselves so far from home.

She knows this, she assures you,

she has seen it happen. As

the stewardess pushes the cart

for the evening's meal by your seat

the thing that rests inside you

gurgles once in agreement

and then is still.

][][

Notes.

This is it, my grand attempt back in 2002 to put words to my nightmare.

The poem starts out in Italy because that is where I learned, for the first time, about the religious fever dream that is Hell, when I accidentally saw the LSD-madness of Hieronymus Bosch's art and it blew my little brain at the implications of such a concept. It didn't seem like much of a stretch to link the mummified bodies of Bosch's righteous in that painting with the babies dying under my care.

The, "the one-room emergency boxes," are called "domiks" and are basically railroad boxcars used to house the vast homeless population suddenly needing protection from the cold. Gyumri was never really rebuilt and 30 years later there are families still living in their rusted-out boxes.

[moonshynecybin]

pecco is like. a rose gardener. person who you hire to maintain your fancy green house full of rare trees. but also happy to just go weed the flower bed etc. i am picking a pecco luca situation obviously... some sort of atonement but happy vibes lmao. u get it??

LOVE this love pecco tending his roses love the idea of him applying his studious little approach to acing projects to the capricious whims of gardening and or yardwork… pecco strikes me as a learner a doer someone who likes to really THINK something through and WORK at things and then see the fruits of his labor pay off. as i’ve said project oriented imo. and a lot of gardening is thinking about the garden planning the garden researching the plants for the garden and then achieving those ends via physical labor. and idk i think he would enjoy it ! that seems like his vibe ! he’s gardening on that ducati.

like pecco on a gardening forum researching optimal moisture levels and planting times for all his little plants mixed in with the physical catharsis of weeding !! pecco getting compliments on the roses he spent hours pruning ! lil pinch on the cheek from an old lady when he says he grew them himself. pecco also. crucially. staring down the cabbage patch that’s been raided by worms like it is something he failed at personally. pecco tossing and turning at night because the roses have DISEASE and there’s not a lot he can do about it !!! pecco trying to teach bezz to propagate. pecco walkin around with his big ass yard tools exerting some control issues. he’s thriving

in terms of the LUCA of it all i think pecco is very self critical AND has a liddle bit of a hard time verbalizing his feelings so at the beginning of their relationship one of the things he like to do is (not TOO vulnerable but undeniably a GESTURE) give luca a bouquet of flower cuttings from his garden… that would be very cute 2 me… remembering that he couldnt even call domi by her NAME for a bit so he’s got some issues there dhhhdkgkg

and thennnn when they’re old and grey it’s luca lounging around in immaculately maintained old person gay man clothes reading a magazine in the garden in the sun while pecco is harrumphing about the seedlings getting snatched by rabbitsssss

[monstersinthecosmos]

okay I think we should take inventory of what we learned about Marius's house.

In fact, the impression was one of comfortable messiness.

(i think the tiktok kids started calling ADHD clutter clustering or something LMAO marius de romanus cluster girlie i guess. thanks i hate it)

Here's some stuff that Marius had on his island!!!!!!!

stone benches

a lighted oil lamp on a stand

a pair of heavy wooden doors

a sarcophagus with a plain lid, cleanly fashioned out of diorite

The lid plated in iron and contained

a golden mask, its features carefully molded, attached to a hood made up of layered plates of hammered gold.

a pair of leather gloves covered completely in tinier more delicate gold plates like scales.

a large folded blanket of the softest red wool with one side sewn with larger gold plates

Magnificent Grecian urns on pedestals in the corridors

great bronze statues from the Orient

exquisite plants at every window and terrace open to the sky.

Gorgeous rugs from India, Persia, China c

giant stuffed beasts mounted in lifelike attitudes-

--the brown bear,

--the lion,

--the tiger,

--even the elephant standing in his own immense chamber,

--lizards as big as dragons,

--birds of prey clutching dried branches made to look like the limbs of real trees.

brilliantly colored murals covering every surface from floor to ceiling

a dark vibrant painting of the sunburnt Arabian desert complete with an exquisitely detailed caravan of camels and turbaned merchants moving over the sand

a jungle warming with delicately rendered tropical blossoms, vines, carefully drawn leaves

creatures everywhere in the texture of the jungle-

--insects,

--birds,

--worms in the soil-

too many monkeys in the jungle,

too many bugs crawling on the leaves.

thousands of tiny insects in one painting of a summer sky.

a large gallery walled on either side by painted men and women staring at me

Figures from all ages these were-

--bedouins,

--Egyptians,

--Greeks and Romans,

--knights in armor,

--peasants

--kings

--queens.

--Renaissance people in doublets and leggings,

--the Sun King with his massive mane of curls,

--people of our own age.

droplets of water clinging to a cape,

the cut on the side of a face,

the spider half-crushed beneath a polished leather boot.

a library, blazing with light.

Walls and walls of books and

rolled manuscripts,

giant glistening world globes in their wooden cradles,

busts of the ancient Greek gods and goddesses,

great sprawling maps.

Newspapers in all languages lay in stacks on tables.

Fossils,

mummified hands,

exotic shells.

bouquets of dried flowers,

figurines and fragments of old sculpture,

alabaster jars covered with Egyptian hieroglyphs.

comfortable chairs with footstools,

candelabra or oil lamps.

a forest of cages.

birds of all sizes and colors

monkeys

baboons,

Potted plants crowded against the cages-

--ferns and

--banana trees,

--cabbage roses,

--moonflower,

--jasmine,

--other sweetly fragrant nighttime vines.

purple and white orchids,

waxed flowers that trapped insects in their maw,

little trees groaning with peaches and lemons and pears.

a hall of sculptures equal to any gallery in the Vatican museum.

adjoining chambers full of paintings,

Oriental furnishings,

mechanical toys.

fine rosewood paneling with framed mirrors rising to the ceiling.

painted chests,

upholstered chairs,

dark and lush landscapes,

porcelain clocks.

A small collection of books in the glass-doored bookcases,

a newspaper of recent date lying on a small table beside a brocaded winged chair.

the stone terrace. where banks of white lilies and red roses gave off their powerful perfume.

a pair of winged chairs that faced each other

a dozen or so candelabra and sconces on the paneled walls.

brocade cushions

[knickynoo]

I'm sure this poll has been made already, but I haven't come across one, and I'm curious so...

[foxeia]

The Cabbage Tree House

[dionysianivy]

December Magic Correspondences

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠄⠄⠂⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁

December is a time for reflection, celebration, and looking ahead. For witches, it’s about wrapping up the year, honoring what’s passed, and preparing for what’s next. The Winter Solstice marks the return of the light as the days slowly start to grow longer again, making it a powerful time for renewal and setting intentions. This month is about finding balance between rest and connection, spending time with loved ones, welcoming the stillness of winter, and creating your own cozy amtosphere through magick. December is perfect for cozying up, practicing gratitude, and preparing for the energy the new year will bring.

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠄⠄⠂⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁

Celebrations:

Brumalia: November 24 - December 24

Krampusnacht: December 5 or 6

Saint Nicholas Day: December 6

Saturnalia: December 17

Feast of Epone: December 18

Winter Solstice: December 21

Dies Natalis Solis Invictis: December 25

Christmas: December 25

Yule/Yuletide: December 21 - January 1

New Year's Eve: December 31

Planets:

Jupiter, Saturn

Flowers:

Holly, Poinsettia, Narcissus, Christmas Cactus, Daffodil

Herbs/Plants:

Fir, Ivy, Mistletoe, Cinammon, Bayberry, Frankincense, Myrrh, Cedar, Pine, Cedarwood, Juniper, Oregano

Tarot Cards:

The Star, The World, Three of Cups, Six of Pentacles

Fruits:

Orange. Grapefruit, Pomenegrate, Clementine, Cranberry, Mandarin, Nuts, Lemon

Vegetables:

Potato, Broccoli, Cauliflower, Turnips, Cabbage, Onion

Deities:

Dionysus, Cernunnos, Freyja, Odin, Demeter, Baldr, Amaterasu, Horus, Beira, The Moirae, the Njorns, Athena, Hecate, Hathor

Colors:

Red, Blue, Green, Gold, White, Silver

Runes:

Isa, Jera, Sowilo

Crystals:

Turqoise, Garnet, Clear Quartz, Ruby, Bloodstone, Moss Agate, Blue Zircon, Serpentine

Animals:

Stag, Deer, Robin, Wren, Snowy Owl, Bear, Wolf

Trees:

Oak, Pine

Symbols:

Yule log, Poinsettia, Santa Claus, Christmas Tree, Wreath, Pinecones

Magical Powers:

Rebirth, Generosity, Transition from darkness to light, Peace, Ancestral work, Introspection, Relaxation, Reflextion, connection with loved ones

ACTIVITIES TO DO

🎄 Chill by the fireplace

🎄 Drink hot cocoa

🎄 Bake sweet goodies

🎄 Celebrate the holidays with the people you love

🎄 Bake a Yule log

🎄 Do a total clean-up of your home

🎄 Buy gifts for the people you love

🎄 Listen to Christmas carols

🎄 Finish your work as soon as possible so you can have more time to rest

🎄 Watch cozy Christmas movies

🎄 If there’s snow, practice snow magick, play in the snow, or make snow angels

🎄 Dance to Celtic Yule music

🎄 Decorate your home

🎄 Make yourself lots of teas

🎄 Create your Yule altar or a Yule magick jar

🎄 Eat lots of citrus—they’re very healthy and perfect for the season

🎄 Wear comfy clothes

🎄 Light candles around your house (be safe tho!)

🎄 Spend time with your favorite people or pets

🎄 Buy yourself gifts because you’ve had a full year, and you deserve it

🎄 Take a walk in nature

🎄 Learn rune divination

🎄 Honor the sun and embrace the darkest days of the season. With the Winter Solstice, the light returns to bless the Earth ♡

🎄 Learn about the history of Yule, Christmas, Hanukkah or other holidays.

🎄 Prepare a feast

🎄 Decorate your home and garden

🎄 Set up a Yule or Christmas tree

🎄 Write all the things you accomplished this year

🎄 Make a vision board with the things you want to attract next year

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tips♡🤶